Ayla has spent her life among the towering trees of Pandora's forests, but when the sky people threaten her world, she and her mother are forced to flee to the reef-dwelling Metkayina clan.
She finds herself caught between an old childhood flame, an...
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Ayla had always been a tough kid.
Even when she did not want to be.
After her father's death by the sky people's hands, she'd assumed a role that no child should ever have to—becoming her mother's protector. It was easier that way, focusing on someone else, ensuring her mother was alright.
Ayla treated the woman as though the latter was walking a thin line, afraid that the slightest push would send her over the edge.
And in doing so, Ayla forgot about herself.
She had never mourned her father properly. Not in the way she should have.
Two weeks after his death, she and her mom, Lei'wa, left everything behind—the forest, their people, the home they shared as a family—to seek refuge in the Metkayina clan, a couple of days after the Sully family had left to do the same.
There was no time to cry, no time to grieve. She had to stay strong, had to hold everything together.
For her mother.
Even if that meant neglecting her own heart.
The very same heart that pounded in her chest as she and Lei'wa landed their ikran on the soft, unfamiliar sand of the Awa'atlu beach.
The sun glinted off the turquoise waters which many marui pods hung over, and the waves lapped gently at the shore, peaceful and inviting, a landscape so different from the one she was accustomed to— yet all she could focus on were the teal faces starting to gather around them.
A group of reef na'vi emerged from the huts and water, whispering loudly between themselves.
"Stay close to me."
Her mother's hand slipped into hers, and Ayla squeezed softly, as though offering comfort.
But deep down, she knew it was for herself.
It was in moments like these that Ayla wished her dad was still here. He would've stood tall and proud, shoulders set, facing those staring eyes with the confidence she'd always admired in him.
And though Ayla was trying to do the same—straightening her back, lifting her chin—she knew it didn't have the same effect. She wasn't him.
She wasn't sure she ever could be.
Her mother's voice was steady but soft as she requested to see the Olo'eyktan.
The whispers around them grew louder, but Ayla focused on the rhythmic crash of waves, anything to drown out the noise in her head.
And then he arrived. The Omatikaya chief. But he wasn't alone, there, walking next to him, was a face Ayla didn't think she'd see again.
